


BILE AND TARTS. 2btvs-ats-ucsl

by iskierka



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:18:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iskierka/pseuds/iskierka





	BILE AND TARTS. 2btvs-ats-ucsl

Title: Bile and Tarts  
Author: Briar  
feedback gobbled: o0briar0o@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: i do not own this boy or girl. nope. Joss  
thunk it, yep he did.  
improv 18: reckless. false. pallor. spice  
Rating: warnyou G but weird  
notes: S5/S2, no maj. spoilage

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=

He knew this was a bad idea. And not just a bad one. A  
bleating-sheep Baaaa-AD! idea. He thunked his head his  
head against the polished mahogany desk. 

Stoopid, stoopid.

The door opened.

He gulped. Erp.

Was this really worth it? At what price the bright  
love renewed, refueled, rebirthed in pure fervor in  
his godess' eyes? 

The lady in the room raised an ogee-arch of a  
perfectly waxed eyebrow. No plucking for *her*.  
Not for Lilah schemin' Morgan.

Perhaps she could taste the frisson of fear which made  
itself known in lad Riley's wide-expansed man-bosom.

"What's the matter, Agent Finn? Having second  
thoughts?"

Oh, to see dear Buffy's face light up in unadulterated  
pleasure, in utmost and raw devouring desire. What  
would he give? Just when he thought he could stand the  
pain no longer...luckily for him the helicopter had to  
be refueled in the old El Torro base. And that the  
stars and satellites [including the one which had  
hampered communications and somehow tipped off a  
certain Eeevil law firm] had somehow aligned or  
mis-aligned in such a way to deposit him squarely into  
his last chance. His final hope. The ultimate window.  
The last call. Not to mention a sure way of bargaining  
the only thing he had left...his now-marked, signed,  
sealed, and almost delivered Soul.

Lilah leered and bent closer with her palms atop the  
table, eyes directly perusing this latest victim  
across from herself. But surely he was no victim?  
No reckless debtor? No double crossing gopher?

She smiled falsely, and Riley could smell the spicy  
scent of her no-doubt overpriced perfume.

"What's the matter?"

Was the pallor of his courage fading?

"Nothing's wrong."

"Good. Take off your clothes."

Riley's eyes grew wide with surprise.

"What?"

"In order for the spell to work you must bake the  
confectionery goods by using a pound of these goose  
berries, fertilized by the gwana of mutated posessed  
fruit bats, flour from the 14th Dimensions of one of  
the hells accessible on earth, and this spatula  
specially enchanted by our very best and quite  
respected black-arts free lancers. You know the rest."

"Rest? What rest?"

"Rest!"

"But I'm not tired, thank you."

"The rest of the spell!"

"Oh."

"The spatula must have the blood off your back, the  
sweat of your brow, and the- uh, [cough] from your  
parts in order for the love tarts to work."

Riley suddenly felt queasy stirrings in his tummy  
region.

"I can do it from here, thanks."

Lilah sighed impatiently. 

"A woman not intended to be the target must be the  
wielder of said spatula."

"How come you're the one doing it?"

"To score points around here you have to get really  
hands-on with special projects."

Lilah wielded the sinister-looking spatula expertly,  
and advanced. Riley looked a bit...green.

"Now STRIP," she barked. Better than a Drill Sergeant.  
Scarier, too.

And Finn thought to himself that perhaps he'd gotten  
in way over his head.

fin


End file.
